Hello hello hello
February 8, 2013
What a week it’s been so far and it’s only Friday morning. Wednesday evening out at the Grazing Goat in central London – the fairly regular meeting of a bunch of us that met whilst working on a particular drug. Very hard working, and one of the best teams to be in. A lot of fun, a lot of collaboration and support, and a lot of output. Anyway, we are all doing different things – one retired, one on a break, one Consulting and running her own beauty business, and one climbing ever higher in his field.
We had a great evening of chat, food and drink and we are all in awe of the one behind http://www.aureliaskincare.com/
I mean people have ideas and dreams but she has made it a reality in a short space of time. That’s the incredible bit. To actually DO it. People talk of running their own business, doing B and B, setting up an agency, whatever. But so few put their money where their mouth is and risk it all to actually make it happen. And she has. And it’s all fabulous (yes, she brought us samples!). Have to say I’ve had sneak previews and been using it for a while and am a complete convert. Eve Lom and Liz Earle move over – Aurelia and her probiotics are taking over!
When there were only two of us left we were joined by our son and his mate who had been to the Opera. Unfortunately by the time they arrived glowing with enthusiasm for the opera itself and the Byron burger they’d had afterwards, the bar was shut so it was cab home.
Last night saw me at what is fast becoming my regualr haunt – the Duke of Kent. Not my choice this time but that of a friend who suggested we get a bite and a bottle (two as it turned out) that very same evening. Great! Thursday morning had started with no expectation of going out and now there was catch-up conversation and food to boot.
Unfortunately the day was not all joy as whilst I drove in to Ealing Broadway to the solicitor’s office I was stopped by a traffic cop on his big motorbike. He made me pull over and park right outside Carluccio’s. “On the double yellows?” I asked “Indeed Madam”. Basically he’d seen me put my seat belt on as I had turned on to the Uxbridge Road from St Leonard’s. So obviously I hadn’t had it on the whole time. He was incredibly nice and polite and friendly, but the North West Traffic team have been tasked with Ealing for the next few weeks and are on zero tolerance. I mean, I have no defence. Stupid and dangerous to not put the seat belt on. Even if only 400 yards from home. I wasn’t going to try to wheedle out of it.
And so I am standing there in the street being lectured to by the copper and now panicking about whether the car is MOT’ed, insured, taxed. These kind of things can easily slip in my disorganised world, and he says they are on a mission. An immediate six point penalty for no insurance. His PDA is taking forever to find me and the car and a friend walks by showing sympathy but keeping well out of it. Eventually he asks if I have ever lived in S18. “SW18″, I said, “About 25 years ago”. There is a record of a motoring offence for someone with my exact name and date of birth at S18. Luckily he is happy to put it down to coincidence and I am not interrogated further. The car is clean, but I am to be fined. No penalty points thank goodness, but £60 or appeal to court.
I park the car and bump in to another friend. “I can’t stop,” I say, “I’ve got to catch the solicitor’s office before it shuts.” “Christ,” she responds, “You don’t waste any time. I only saw you with the copper about ten minutes ago!” So much for anonymity in London.